One piece : Armor of Justice

"I told you, Hoffman, this idea is foolish, and even if it were true, what would it change? We LIVE IN PERCEIVED REALITY!

You should have stayed with me, but instead, look where you are now!"

In response, the round scientist named Hoffman seemed to muster some courage: "This... this research is the future!"

While he spoke, Caesar stopped listening to him, and Bill kept his eyes on the clown.

"Enough! Clearly, you failed to grasp the truth here. So stay here forever!

And you! Are you the new recruit, William Ox?"

Keeping his guard up, Bill nonetheless replied, "Yes."

"Excellent! Very good! At least you look impressive!

I'm here to take you. Follow me.After saying this, Caesar vanished like a cloud.

Turning over his shoulder, Bill asked Hoffman, "Is he your boss?"

Looking concerned, the round scientist explained, "Boss? No... but... uh... he works directly with Doctor Vegapunk."

Doctor Vegapunk was someone Bill had heard of. So he picked up his backpack, said goodbye, and cautiously followed the ominous-looking clown.

On the deck of the medium-sized Marine brigantine, a fierce battle was underway.

The ship's commander had been incapacitated by a cunning trick, and the remaining fighters were in disarray, but one young recruit took the initiative.

"Whirlwind Wind!!"

Leaping through a storm of knives and swords, the fight was brutal; yet on this sea at this time, the determination of one teenager was crucial.

Every kick sent an opponent flying. Every enemy's strike was dodged by an arm's length. For a man trained by one of the most powerful fighters in the Fleet, how could an ordinary band of pirates pose a problem? Nevertheless, there were many of them.

It all started when the Fleet's warship, on a routine patrol, stumbled upon the wreckage of three ships. The ships were tied together in disarray, and as the warship drew closer, it looked like a typical shipwreck.

The people aboard the wreckage appeared exhausted, there were no signs of weapons or a flag. Therefore, fulfilling their duty, the Fleet marines began a rescue operation. These "rescued" individuals outnumbered the marines on the warship by at least threefold, but at that moment, it went unnoticed.

Bringing the ship close to the debris, the sailors threw down ladders and lowered makeshift platforms. Clearly, this was something they were accustomed to in the dangerous waters of the Southern Blues.

Lifting the weak "survivors" in groups of three and helping those who could climb the last step themselves, soon the deck of the small warship was crowded.

When the work was completed, the ship's commander, a local Fleet officer who had patrolled this route year after year, took on the heavy-duty task without hesitation. With a strong pull on a lowered platform, he saw an old man who introduced himself as the captain of this small ruined fleet, and exchanged a few words with him.

Thanking the commander repeatedly, the old captain then clutched his chest and collapsed. Seeing the old man fall, a marine attempted to help but received a bullet in the stomach in return.

This shot turned out to be the signal—as soon as the explosion rang out, the "survivors" pounced on their rescuers. The marines on deck found themselves outnumbered by fifty percent, and with more people boarding every minute, chaos ensued among the marines.

When the situation seemed to spin out of control, two recruits climbed onto the deck—both newly enlisted, no older than sixteen.

"Fia, blow up the wreckage!"

Without losing a second, Rance didn't know exactly what was happening. He only knew that about an hour ago a wrecked ship had been spotted in the distance, and the commander had ordered a rescue operation.

Being recruits, specifically, a carpenter and a cook, they were both sent below deck to perform various tasks. Rance was tasked with preparing barrels of water, while Fia was supposed to cook food for the "survivors." They heard the shot and found each other in less than a minute.

Nodding, Fia almost disappeared. The only combat art she had been taught—Phantom Step—was perfect for moving in the dark, but it was enough to get her to the right spot. She didn't have time to think, acting purely on instinct. Climbing onto the yards, she reached the middle and, stretching her hand towards the wreckage, where a few dozen people still remained, her fingers turned into hinges that unfolded, revealing five cannons; she fired.

Hearing five consecutive shots above his head, Rance understood that Fia had completed her task, and hopefully, there would be no more reinforcements.

It took him only five minutes to clear a quarter of the ship's deck of attackers.

Now that the battle lines began to form, the stunned marines were able to showcase their superior combat methods, although many of them perished in the first seconds of the battle, those who survived continued to fight.

This type of combat couldn't be called beautiful. It was very close-quarters hand-to-hand combat. Rance was afraid to use the full Storm Strike so as not to kill his comrades.

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